


Halo

by spinner33



Series: CM - Season Four [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Foot Fetish, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oh Where To Begin, Teasing, Undercover As Prostitute, cross-dressing, physical assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4969672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid goes undercover as a sex worker to capture a serial killer.  Hotch is not a happy camper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wrong.

That was the only word to describe how it made Aaron Hotchner feel when Dr. Reid stepped out of the bathroom where Prentiss and Garcia had been preparing him for his undercover gig. Prentiss and Reid were dressed as street walkers, she in a black catsuit and he in a black corset. On Prentiss, the tight leather catsuit was kinky fun. It looked sexy. It looked so right, the way it accentuated her breasts, made her look taller and more intimidating than ever. The corset Reid was dressed in, however, made Hotch feel things he knew he had no right to be feeling.

Wrong, wrong, so wrong.

Reid didn’t realize Hotch was there watching him at the end of the hall. Spencer stopped for a moment, tottering on the spiky heels. He turned almost upside down to reach his ankle, and smoothed an unseen wrinkle in the fishnets he was wearing. He pinched the hose, and his thin hands slid up his calf, around one knee, and slowly up the inside of his thigh, clear to his groin. He tugged uncomfortably at the silken red panties that had to be cutting off circulation to his lower body. Hotch saw those fingertips disappear inside the edge of the panties, and he inhaled. He saw a hint of sandy body hair, and he turned away, clearing his throat, coughing loudly so Reid would know he was there.

“Come here,” Prentiss said, stepping out of the restroom and pushing Reid up against the wall, slapping his hands away from himself. Hotch watched with actual dismay as Prentiss smoothed the body of the super-tight corset that was clutching Reid’s ribs, and smoothed the panties again as well. “I dunno. We might have to put a skirt on you. These might actually be too revealing. What do you think, Hotch?” she asked, motioning to Reid’s mid-section.

“I…um…well… I….” Hotch rambled. Reid had his lips tucked tight inside his mouth, and was glaring hard at Prentiss, eyes wide with an emotion between anger and horror. Mortification, perhaps?

“He needs to be as tempting as possible. We want the unsub to want him. We want the unsub to be unable to resist either one of you,” Morgan called out from behind Hotch.

When exactly had Derek appeared? Morgan had hit Hotch’s emotions right on the head though – Hotch looked at Reid and all he thought was ‘irresistible’. His head was instantly filled with all kinds of inappropriate dreams about bending Reid over a hard surface and fucking him into next week. Holding him by that mass of unruly curls and slamming their hips together until Reid was begging and pleading for more.

"Gentlemen, give me your opinions. Where's Rossi at? Oh well,” Prentiss said to Derek and Aaron, digging through a her huge, hobo handbag and pulling out a micro-mini black leather skirt. “With skirt? Without skirt? With skirt? Without skirt?” she asked, holding the thin strip of material up to Reid’s slim hips and then pulling it away. Spencer looked like he was ready to take a swing at Emily, a full-fledged, roundhouse, punch in the kisser.

“Hold still,” Morgan rasped, licking his mouth. Reid glared at him, and Derek cocked a sideways smile. “Without,” Morgan decided.

“With, with, with,” Hotch countermanded in a panic, not because it would actually look better, but because suddenly the very last thing Aaron wanted was for his Spencer Reid to be walking the streets undercover wearing nothing but a tight black corset and silk red panties.

“Garcia!” Prentiss hollered. “Where are you? We need makeup!” 

“Nooo,” Reid whimpered. 

“You’re going to have to sit down so she can reach your face. Come on, babydoll. Over here,” Prentiss said, grabbing the laced-up front of Reid’s corset and pulling him along. He had no choice but to follow. The pair of them swished past Hotch and Morgan, and Aaron could not take his eyes off of Reid.

They reached a folding table and chairs in the conference area of the police station. Local LEOs gathering for their change of shift froze when Reid came in. They were seated in rows of folding chairs, and there was much scooting about, like a class of unruly children.

“So that’s why you brought him along!” one called out. 

“Suddenly it makes sense!” 

“That’s enough,” came the commanding voice of the shift captain, a bellowing, brawny man who did have a sense of humor, but not when a serial killer was wreaking havoc in his precinct.

“Stop. Here,” Prentiss ordered, getting down on the floor. She slid the leather skirt over one foot, then the other, and slowly shimmied it up Reid’s legs, around his hips, fitting it in place. Prentiss stood up, and had to tug hard to get the zipper to close. When she was done, she grabbed Reid by the hips and turned him around once, twice to admire him.

“It’s too tight,” Reid whined.

“Well, boys?” Prentiss asked Hotch and Morgan. The shift behind them broke out in wolf-whistles and applause. “I wasn’t talking to you,” Emily scowled at the patrolmen. They all seemed to duck back in unison.

Hotch and Morgan studied Reid, and immediately both of them dropped their eyes to his crotch. It was like they were checking to make sure he really was male. It was making Reid feel defensive. He tucked his hands there unconsciously. The skirt was too small, in Hotch’s opinion, because when Prentiss pirouetted Reid around, a hint of red silk was showing both back and front. Morgan grinned again and then feigned seriousness.

“He’ll pass,” Morgan rumbled.

“You can do better than that. Tell him he’s pretty,” Prentiss crooned.

“Reid, you’re pretty,” Morgan teased.

“No. That’s not good enough. Tell him how pretty he is,” Prentiss demanded.

“So pretty,” Morgan whispered.

“Too pretty,” Hotch managed the words. Reid’s eyes shot to Hotch, and a sheen of utter fear and desperation glistened on Spencer’s boyish face.

Garcia finally appeared out of the restroom, in a hurry, in a rush, panting and pink. She flew over to where everyone was waiting, and tossed a veritable tackle box filled with makeup onto the table, which groaned in protest. Reid sprawled like a grasshopper into the chair, and then clamped his knees together tight when both Morgan and Hotch immediately looked between his legs again. Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Penelope to do her worst.

Hotch’s eyes dropped to the ground. Reid’s toes were peeking out of his fancy heels. Hotch had never noticed before what interesting feet Reid had. Unlike Hotch’s own square, hairy feet with short, stubby toes, Reid had slender, long, delicate feet, with toes which echoed his expressive hands. He had thick, flat big toes. The second and third phalanges were quite pronounced, making those toes seem to start in the middle of his arch instead of at the end of his foot. That wasn’t the only thing that caught Hotch’s eyes. Reid’s toenails were dotted with jungle red polish. The whole idea of that made a fire ignite somewhere in Hotch’s core. He searched for Reid’s hands, and saw that his usually unkempt nails were suddenly dagger length and jungle red as well.

‘Damn you, Emily Prentiss,’ Hotch growled to himself, unable to stop thinking about how those fingernails might feel running down his back as he was thrusting in and out of Reid. What kinds of noises might Spencer be making? Anything like the tiny, pitiful whimpers he was echoing at the moment?

“No, please, I really don’t want this,” Spencer was protesting. “Shhh,” Emily soothed, helping herself to Garcia’s makeup in order to do her own face.

“Let’s go over this once more,” the shift captain called out, banging on his lectern and making his officers face front again. “Tonight we are going to bring down The Candyman, which is what the media is calling him because he’s drugging his victims with pharmaceutical grade drugs to be able to carry them away. The undercover FBI agents are going to be roaming the unsub’s hunting zone in pairs, hoping to attract the unsub’s attention by dressing in the manner of his previous victims. Your job is to act as backup. Keep your radios open at all times so you can hear what is going on. At the first sign of danger, I want your asses in place, prepared to bring this guy down. This bastard has abducted twenty-five men and women, and he’s killed fourteen of them. The lucky ones are dead. Eric Latimer is in an overdose coma, and will probably never wake up. Sheila Morris will have to have reconstructive surgery to rebuild her face after he smashed it in. This bastard has to be stopped, and we’re going to do it. Tonight. Is that clear? I don’t want any shenanigans going on. I don’t want any slip-ups like last week. No flirting around with the working girls. No wandering off the grid to grab a bite to eat. If you need to leave the hunting zone, you make sure someone else is ready to take your place. I want this guy. I want him bad. Zimmerman? Zimmerman! Eyes front. You can ask Dr. Reid for his number later.”

Laughter rumbled again through the patrol room.

“Hey, if Dr. Reid is giving out his number, I want it too,” called out one of the female officers.

More laughter. Thank goodness Reid was nearly ready to go. Hotch wasn’t sure how much more humiliation the doctor was going to stand for before he would get up and bolt out of here.

“Close your eyes, sweetie. That’s good,” Garcia cooed, touching Reid’s chin ever so lightly and putting a sparkling kohl along the edges of his eyes. “Open,” she whispered sultrily, tapping his knees. “Can you get a little closer to me? Up. That’s good.” Garcia brushed on mascara. Prentiss was supervising over her shoulder. Hotch could not lift his eyes from those parted, fishnet- covered knees, and that skirt? That inverted delta of shadow that was not quite covering those red silk panties? Hotch was so tempted to slide his hand underneath.

“Oh Reid, I envy you those lashes,” Emily murmured. Spencer flickered an unfriendly glance at her, and she grinned at him.

“Prentiss with Morgan. Reid with me,” Hotch commanded. “Garcia, you and Dave keep the channels open and recording. We’re lucky that there are CCTV cameras up at three points of entry into the hunting zone. Keep your eyes peeled for this guy. We’ve all seen his description. Fair skin. Blond hair. Brown eyes. 5-11. He’ll blend in because he’s normal looking, but he’s got to have a bag or a coat with him to be able to carry his vials. He isn’t going to walk around with a syringe full of sedative in his hands.”

“Got it, Chief,” Morgan nodded, tapping Prentiss on the shoulder. Emily kissed her fingertips and brushed them delicately to Reid’s red, pouty mouth. Spencer frowned and pulled back from the gesture. Prentiss wasn’t fazed. She had been the one to recommend Reid for this role, much against his wishes. Hotch instantly recalled Reid’s previous experience with cos-play at science fiction conventions and with Rocky Horror in college, and he agreed to Prentiss’s suggestion.

“Ready, Dr. Reid?” Hotch asked. 

“No,” Reid growled.

“Garcia, that’s enough,” Hotch said.

“He’s not done yet,” Penelope replied. Reid stared up at her and raised one brow slowly. Garcia pulled a large barrette out of her tackle box of terrors and clasped half of Reid’s hair back from his face, snapping the sparkling, shiny barrette up on the left side of his head. The rest of his sandy curls hung down over his right cheek, which was burning with chagrin.

“He’s done,” Hotch decided, holding out a hand to Reid.

Garcia backed up as Reid took Hotch’s hand and wobbled to his feet. Hotch was unconscious of the fact that as he escorted Spencer down the hallway, he had slipped a hand around Reid’s waist, and was walking him along. This masculine gesture of chivalry did not, however, slip the notice of Penelope Garcia, or of Dave Rossi, who was silently waiting by the exit, a wicked smile teasing the side of his knowing face.

Reid caught a glimpse of himself in the award and remembrance display case that lined the hallway towards the police station back exit. He inhaled sharply, and made a distressful groaning sound as he exhaled.

“I can’t go out like this. I look like the Whore of Babylon,” Reid whispered to Hotch as they passed Rossi.

“Just pretend it’s Halloween,” Hotch suggested, feeling stupid and dim the instant the words were out of his mouth. Reid gave him a very cold glance.

“When have you ever imagined I would dress like this for Halloween?” Spencer whispered. Hotch didn’t have a chance to reply. Reid stiffened and stood up taller, whirling around to glare accusingly at Dave Rossi.

“Where have you got your gun stashed, Dr. Reid?” Rossi smiled widely. Reid tugged the skirt down in front, and frowned.

“I’m not packing,” he replied.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Garcia grinned.

Garcia and Rossi tittered between themselves and hurried for the surveillance van. Reid tugged uncomfortably at his skirt again. Pulling it down in front to cover himself only made a larger crescent of red silk appear from the back. Hotch thought maybe he should pull the end of the skirt back into place for Reid, but then decided he had better not even go there.

Because if he went there, he wasn’t coming back. 

Hotch slipped out of his black overcoat and put it on Reid's shoulders. Spencer gave him a look that radiated gratitude and affection, putting his arms inside Hotch's sleeves and huddling under his mantle.


	2. Chapter 2

“Damn, baby, you have got one seriously-possessive pimp.”

“What?” Reid whispered hazily. The young man in front of him was all eyes and all hands, and it was the all hands part that had made Hotch appear at the end of the alley for the umpteenth time since Reid had vanished this direction, holding the latest suspect by the hand.

“You know, maybe he’s not cut out for this,” the john laughed softly. He wasn’t dangerous. He was nervous, almost tentative, dotting a kiss to Reid’s bared throat, running both hands down the false curves of the corset. This guy was not their unsub, but he was a good decoy to build up the illusion that Reid was available and working this part of the block. Reid felt almost protective of the youngster. What was he? Twenty? Maybe? Reid couldn’t help but feel it was a good plan to keep him down here as long as possible, especially when the kid lowered the corset a fraction of an inch in order to tease one nipple with the end of his tongue.

“Not cut out for what?” Reid whispered, petting the kid’s hair, encouraging him. Spencer was panting with want, and he was not feigning for his audience either.

“Sharing you like this. God, if you were mine, I wouldn’t put you out here. Not for a second. I’d keep you at home. I’d fuck you till you wouldn’t need anyone else. I’d give you anything you wanted, anytime you wanted it, anywhere you wanted it. Is he your boyfriend, baby?”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend, and neither are you,” Reid replied, tilting his head back and pulling the kid in tight.

Three hours of being stroked and kissed and man-handled was building up a lustful fire in Reid’s tummy that was nearly past a boiling point. He was ready once again to ask for a coffee break in order to, um, take the edge off, so to speak. Then reality smacked him in the backside, and he would picture himself actually asking Aaron Hotchner for permission to go have a private wank somewhere.

All Spencer could imagine was Hotch’s dark eyes boring into him. Aaron would know exactly why Reid wanted a break, and the disapproval and disgust Spencer feared would be staring back at him was more than enough to take the edge off any desire he might be feeling.

Kind of. Kind of not. Reid was even more afraid he wouldn’t find disapproval but interest. Maybe even an offer to help him with his problem?? Reid had been so confused all night. Hotch had been giving all kinds of mixed signals to Reid. Firstly, the way Hotch’s eyes had been glued to Reid’s crotch was downright pervy. Secondly, the odd way Hotch had escorted him out of the police station had been sweet, almost tender. Putting his coat over Reid? That had been Chivalry 101, and it had melted a wide hole right through Reid's usual defenses against showing any inappropriate affection for his dour supervising agent. Thirdly, the possessive way Hotch had been scrutinizing every last customer who showed an interest in Reid, that had been downright scary.

Spencer glanced to his right, and he could see Hotch bathed in the beams from the streetlight. Aaron was watching again, and he was not happy. Understatement. Hotch was absolutely livid with jealousy. Maybe Reid was imagining it was jealousy though. Maybe it was disapproval over the fact that Spencer had started the evening all awkward and stumbling, but as the night wore on, he was getting into the role more and more. Reid was annoyed again suddenly. He would defy the ever-stoic Aaron Hotchner to be able to do this gig and not get turned on by it.

Reid licked his lips again and closed his eyes, unconsciously arching his back to bring the kid closer to himself. The john kissed Reid’s throat, sucked hungrily on his exposed nipple, hands moving down to Reid’s hips as he backed Spencer against the bricks and got between his spread legs.

‘Oh, please,’ Reid panted. ‘A few more seconds. A few more seconds.’

“Hey, buddy. Time to move along.”

Reid’s eyes popped open in surprise. The suspect jerked back from Reid. No. Scratch that. He had been jerked back from Reid. Hotch was suddenly right there, holding the kid by the nape of his neck, pushing his scrawny ass towards the head of the alley. Hotch shot Reid a dirty look, and Spencer pulled his legs together, standing up tall once more.

“What? What? I…hey, you, he….I’m not done,” the kid protested.

“The fuck you aren’t,” Hotch growled as he flashed his badge and frog-marched the guy along.

“Oh shit,” the kid kept mumbling. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”

“Keep walking. You didn’t see a thing. You hear me?”

“Are you arresting me?” the john whimpered. Hotch pushed him up against the wall at the head of the alley and stealthily put away his badge.

“No, I’m not arresting you. But you are going to start walking, and you’re going to keep walking, and you’re not going to turn around until you’re home. Do you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“Yes. Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I understand.” 

“Good. Now give me your money.” 

“Give you what?”

“Give me your money. I don’t want you getting friendly with anyone else on the way out of here,” Hotch repeated, all dark eyes and scowling face. The kid whipped out his wallet and gave Hotch everything that was inside. It had to be a couple hundred bucks. Hotch stuffed the money into his front pocket.

“What’s your name? Where do you live?” Hotch demanded. 

“Are you serious? I’m not fucking telling you my address!”

“Get the fuck out of here!” Hotch growled. He spun the kid by the shoulders, pushing him away into the night. He listened with satisfied, malevolent glee as frightened footsteps hurried back towards polite society and the safety of the crowds.

Hotch strolled casually along the alley to where Reid was standing. Spencer was chuckling softly, biting his bottom lip, barely holding back incautious words and unwise whispers that danced on his tongue.

“You all right?” Hotch asked. Reid gave a mischievous giggle.

“Oh, Hotchness. You can be such a kill-joy,” Spencer purred, his voice full of smoke and lust.

“Put your titty away and get back to work,” Aaron scowled, putting a hand inside Reid’s askew corset, tucking his nipple back into place, and adjusting the lacey edge to cover him properly again. Eyes burning with equal parts anger and need, Reid submissively folded his arms and hands up beside his head against the bricks, and eased the rest of his body forward, sliding one leg between Hotch’s thighs. It was a gesture that went straight to Hotch’s libido. It was like Reid was begging to be taken.

Spencer Reid was a patient man, but he was almost at the end of his ability to resist grabbing Hotch and dragging him into a dark corner of this filthy alley. Hotch loomed over him, and Reid wanted nothing more than to push his angry, possessive boss to his knees and sink his aching cock inside that tight-clenched mouth. Completely opposite of that, Reid wobbled on his heels, also wanting to fall before Hotch and perform the same sexual favor for him. All Spencer wanted for an unsure second was to wrap his mouth around Hotch’s cock and find out how salty he would taste. Oh God. That was nearly it. Just imagining Hotch’s cock in his mouth, his hands in his hair, and that deep, rich voice panting his name, it had almost undone Spencer. Reid had to think of ice water, dead corpses, and vats of creamed spinach to keep from having a spontaneous orgasm on the spot.

“How much longer do we have to be out here?” Reid pleaded.

“You got somewhere else to be?” Hotch wondered, pulling the corset laces together and tugging them tight in order to tie them off once more. He pulled them too tight, and one of them snapped off in his hands.

Annoyed, Reid brushed Hotch’s hands away, and grasped the front of the corset. He loosened it, setting the lacey, itchy edge right at his nipple line. He watched with ill-concealed amusement and satisfaction as Hotch’s eyes went down his breastbone and back up his long throat.

“See anything you like?” Spencer asked. Hotch’s startled eyes rose back to Reid’s face. “Just so you know, I’m calling in sick tomorrow, and I’m not getting out of bed all damned day,” Reid rasped.

“Are you coming down sick?” Hotch worried. A naughty smile played on Reid's usually innocent face.

"No. I'm going to run out the battery charge on every last sex toy I own," Reid retorted. Hotch blinked at him, helpless and breathless for a moment or two. Before Hotch could blink at him again, Spencer kept talking, because distraction was absolutely necessary for both of them at this point. “Hotch, the average duration for an act of sexual intercourse is approximately fifteen minutes, while the real time span of a man thrusting with his erect penis to induce orgasm in himself or to encourage orgasm in his partner, hopefully both, takes between four and five minutes. Six, at the very best. Seven, if he’s positively phenomenal. The rest of the fifteen minutes involves foreplay or manual stimulation, and afterplay – cuddling, caressing, reassuring touches, lurid promises, etc. etc.”

“What are you saying?” Hotch wondered as his eyes crawled back down to Reid’s mid-riff and below.

“Oscar Stein was only back here for eight and half minutes. You need to give the customers a little more time with me.”

“Oh, do I?” Hotch snarled.

“Yes. I know it’s hard, Daddy, but you do have to share me,” Reid said in a little boy voice as he traced his fingers down Hotch’s chest and to his belt, riding purposefully across one nipple on the way.

“Do you know how long the average homicide takes, Dr. Reid?” Hotch countered, grabbing that hand by the wrist and holding it tight enough to bruise.

“It depends on the unsub, I should think,” Spencer answered, sobering up, his tone serious once more. Hotch got up against Reid and breathed in his ear.

“It takes a lot less than fifteen minutes, Dr. Reid. A lot fucking less."

“Hotch, you’re hurting my hand,” Reid whispered, biting his mouth closed.

“How long do you want me to wait, exactly?” Hotch growled. “Until our unsub drugs you, and tries to drag you away? Until our unsub smashes in your skull with whatever large rock he can find in the alley, like he did with Sheila? Until he rips off your clothes, and shoves his dick inside you, and rapes you right here while we all listen? How long do you want me to wait, Dr. Reid?”

“Hotch, please.”

“You watch your ass, Reid,” Hotch muttered.

“Watching my ass is your job, isn’t it?” Reid replied, lifting his chin, attempting to yank his wrist away from Hotch. Their mouths were close enough that when Reid’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, he actually brushed Hotch’s lip too.

Hotch flinched back, yanking Reid roughly along by one arm, hauling him towards the head of the alley. Hotch had flinched away, because with every step he was fighting not to push Reid up against these bricks. He was longing to tear that corset open, rip off those panties, and do things to Reid he had never dreamed of before. He hated himself for what he was feeling, hated that watching Reid in this sexual roleplay was causing him to have all these strange and unfamiliar desires.

They were jarred back to reality when Morgan met them under the light of the streetlamp.

“Everything okay?” Morgan worried. Hotch cringed and let go of Reid’s wrist. Their entire conversation has just been broadcast not only to their own team, but to the shift of patrolmen who were acting as backup. Could this night possibly get any worse?

“Just fucking great,” Hotch snarled.

“It’s fine,” Reid answered, eyes on the ground, hand holding the corset up to his chest.

“Did that kid get too frisky with you?” Derek asked, steadying Reid and smoothing his torso for him. Morgan unlaced the top two holes of the corset, and gently pulled the ends together once more. He tied a small bow, and patted Reid’s tummy for him. The tenderness of the gesture made Reid want to cry.

“Thanks,” Reid whispered to Morgan.

“Shouldn’t you be watching over Prentiss?” Hotch muttered.

“Emily is taking a coffee break. She’s in the van with Rossi and Garcia. You sure everything is okay, kid?” Morgan asked Reid.

“Yeah.”

“Can I bring you anything?”

“A can of Lysol and stiff drink,” Reid said, taking off Hotch's coat and thrusting it back at him.

Morgan patted Reid on the shoulder and headed away, towards the oh-so-obvious white van that was parked around the next corner, its chrome bumper poking out into the no parking zone. Morgan disappeared inside, and suddenly Hotch and Reid were alone again.

Hotch was holding his coat over one arm, looking apologetically at Reid.

Reid cast a nervous glance at Hotch, and Aaron reached for one of his arms, rubbing his elbow. Spencer dropped his eyes to the ground and looked properly chastised. Hotch was awash with guilt and self-hatred, feeling terrible that he was shaming Reid so badly.

“He smeared your lipstick,” Hotch scowled, licking his thumb and caressing Reid’s bottom lip. He rubbed under Reid’s chin gently.

“It’s okay. We’re almost done for tonight.”

“Assume the position then,” Hotch whispered. Reid turned to walk back to his place by the phone pole. Someone else was already waiting for him.


	3. Chapter 3

“Four minutes, twenty eight seconds. Twenty nine seconds. Thirty seconds,” Hotch counted off to himself, eyes darting between his wrist watch and the couple in the alley. He hadn’t liked the looks of this new one. Hadn’t like him one little bit from the get-go. Hadn’t wanted to let Reid go down there alone with this guy, not for one second. The new john was unsettling, too calm, too self-assured. He had looked right at Hotch, and he had smiled the kind of smile that spoke of arrogance. He wasn't the kind of guy who needed to seek out a prostitute. He wasn't young, and he wasn't unattractive, and he wasn't from this lower income socio-economic and demographic neighborhood.

“What is that you’re saying?” Rossi asked through the com.

“Reid said to give him more time. Said I was being too fast to intervene,” Hotch replied. “Five minutes. Five oh one. Five oh two.”

“Right, right,” Rossi chuckled.

Hotch could hear over the com the conversation that was going on down there between Reid and his newest customer.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” the new guy was saying. He was a brunet, Hotch consoled himself. He wasn’t their guy. No matter how much Aaron didn’t like him, he didn’t fit the description of their killer.

“Maybe you didn’t notice me,” Reid replied. There was a rustling noise. Hotch’s eyes confirmed what his ears were hearing. This guy was undoing Reid’s corset, fingers darting inside against bare skin. He wasn’t going to find the wire unless he took the corset completely off of Reid, which Hotch was not going to allow. “Don’t be anxious. You can take your time,” Reid whispered softly.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna take all the time in the world with you. You haven’t been around here before. I would have noticed you,” the customer purred.

“Not with all these beautiful girls to choose from,” Reid denied.

“I’d’ve spotted you right away. You’re so different,” the guy whispered, his hand moving down to cup over those panties in a way that made Reid breathe audibly in and out. Reid had a horrible premonition that he might freak out when he found a cock instead of a cunt inside that sweet red silk, but instead, the guy only smiled wider and continued stroking and fingering him. “So pretty," he whispered, using his other hand to caress Reid's face, down his torso, and over to his left elbow, inside the crook of his arm. "Do you use, baby?" the customer asked.

"Not for a long time," Reid replied.

"Do you ever miss it?" he asked.

"You never stop missing it, do you?" Reid responded.

"So tall. Such long legs. Can you come down to your knees?”

Reid swallowed and obediently slid down the wall to land on his knees. He had an inkling what the guy was going to ask for, and he wondered how far into fellating him he was going to get before Hotch dragged the customer away. His instincts told him not very far.

“Oh no. No. No. No,” Hotch was shaking his head, every alert in this brain going off. The customer was taking off his jacket, tossing it aside, kneeling down with Reid. That hadn’t been what Reid was expecting, not at all. Hotch could tell by the confused look that crossed Reid’s features.

Hotch and Reid were studying the guy from vastly different angles, but at the same time, they realized he had a pouch up under one arm, and he was reaching into it.

“That’s perfect. Right like that,” the customer was saying, pushing Reid back onto his bottom, up against the bricks, then sliding his knees apart further. There was something more than predatory about the way he was looming over Spencer.

“Like this?” Reid asked, pulling his legs in closer.

“No. This. Like this,” the customer said, fingers going up Reid’s thighs and between his legs again. “God, look at you. So beautiful. I can’t wait to be inside you. You are so ready for me, aren’t you? I got something special for you first, baby.” Hotch heard Reid inhale loudly, and his blood froze. 

“......Hotch…..” Reid whimpered. 

The terrified tremble in Reid’s voice was like a bolt of lightning through Hotch’s body. Aaron was instantly running down the alley, drawing his sidearm, yelling for backup. He watched in horror as the guy pulled out a shiny silver sliver, raising it up. Reid started to scramble away, up on one knee, but the guy grabbed him, punched him in the mouth, and shoved him hard back into position.

“Freeze! Hands in the air!!” Hotch shouted from twenty feet. The brunet male turned to stare coldly at Hotch, and raised the needle higher before plunging it downward, right into Reid’s thigh.

‘Oh fuck,’ Hotch thought as his mouth hung open and his legs went stiff. ‘This can’t be happening.’

Morgan sped past Hotch and grabbed the unsub first, rolling him to the ground on his face and chest, slapping cuffs in place, yanking him to his feet and shaking him viciously as he pulled him along. It was like watching a cowboy wrangle and hog-tie a calf at a rodeo – it had been that fast. His furious and frantic intervention jarred Hotch back to reality.

“MEDIC!” Hotch was screaming now, throwing himself on his knees in front of Reid. “Reid? Dr. Reid? Talk to me. Baby, talk to me,” he pleaded, whipping out a blue glove and slowly pulling the needle out of Reid’s leg. He caressed Spencer’s face, his bloody lip, brushing away unruly curls and stroking his cheek.

“Evidence,” Reid gulped, fumbling for a grasp on Aaron’s wrist, keeping Hotch from putting the needle down on the disgusting street beneath them. He covered his mouth and clumsily stemmed the flow of blood.

Rossi and Prentiss raced up the alley, guns drawn, at the ready. Rossi followed Morgan back to the van. The sounds of approaching cop cars and wailing sirens were suddenly all around. Dave was kicking the unsub’s legs to keep him from dragging them. As Morgan was pulling the guy along, a brown wig tumbled to the ground, revealing blond hair beneath. Derek scooped up the wig and tossed it to Rossi.

Prentiss wrapped a plastic bag around the needle and syringe that Aaron was holding, and she zipped the bag shut, then put another plastic bag around that, hoping to save whatever fingerprints were on the vial. Hotch was helping Reid to his feet. He swung one of Reid’s arms up around his shoulders, and balanced a hand on Reid’s opposite hip. It wasn’t any use though. Reid stumbled and slid down to his knees.

“HOTCH!” Emily exclaimed. Aaron stopped, swooped sideways, and lifted Reid up into his arms as the doctor drifted in and out of consciousness. Hotch bundled Spencer into his arms, held onto him like he would never let go again.

The ambulance was there when they emerged from the head of the alley. The harsh rotating lights illuminated the streak of blood running down Reid’s long thigh in red rivulets, smeared around by Hotch’s slippery hand. Hotch walked Spencer up and through the open doors and placed him onto the gurney, fighting to stay by his side.

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t accept ride-alongs with adult patients,” one of the EMTs started to protest when Prentiss shook her head.

“Don’t waste your breath arguing with him. Hit the lights and go,” Emily told the woman, slamming the doors shut and banging on them twice.

Hotch threw his badge to the EMT, and hovered over the top of Reid, squeezing in at the head of the gurney. He was caressing Spencer’s hair, thumbing tenderly across his clammy brow.

“You’re going to be okay, Reid. You’re going to be okay,” Hotch chanted.

“Hotch?” Reid gasped.

“I’m here,” Hotch promised. Dizzy eyes focused on him. 

“Diazepam,” Reid slurred.

“Fuck. Oh fuck. Are you sure?” Hotch asked. Diazepam was part of the killer's signature.

“How could he possibly know that?” one asked the other.

"Junkie?" the other speculated back. Hotch pulled Reid's credentials out of his pocket and flashed them at the two EMTs.

"He's a federal agent, damn you! Do something!" Aaron howled. He forgot all his anger and became utterly frantic when Reid started to convulse on the gurney.

“Heart rate is falling,” the EMT wielding a stethoscope said. “Respiration too.”

“Sir, you’re going to have to move in case I need to intubate him. Out of my way,” the female EMT ordered, grabbing Hotch and hauling him aside. “Hit it, Tommy!” she shouted towards the front of the vehicle. Hotch jolted forward and back again as they swerved around a wild turn and lit up the night. He clutched Reid’s hand and held on tight.


	4. Chapter 4

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss rose up as one unit from the waiting room chairs. Garcia whimpered. Rossi patted her hand soothing.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch corrected sternly.

The doctor looked up from his clipboard and heaved a sigh. It was three in the morning, and he was in no mood. But then again, Aaron Hotchner was in no mood either. And if it came down to a pissing contest of who was in a worse mood, Hotch was going to win this one, hands down.

“Are you his family?” the doctor asked. "Yes," Hotch snarled.

“Can you take us to him?” Morgan asked. “Please? We’ve been out here three hours, and there hasn’t been so much as a word on how he is.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Prentiss asked.

“What the hell is taking you so long?” Hotch snarled.

“The nurse is cleaning Dr. Reid up. He nearly overdosed on Diazepam, but he’s going to be all right. They’ve stabilized his heart rate, and his breathing is normal again. The worst of it is over, but he’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. Leave me a number, and I will call you in the morning when you can come and visit. One at a time. During regular hours.”

"Pretentious jackass," Hotch growled, walking straight past the doctor and giving him another malevolent staredown.

“Hotch,” Prentiss chided as Aaron walked through the swinging doors to the rooms beyond. Once Hotch was past him, the doctor seemed to deflate somewhat. Prentiss apologized for Hotch, and Morgan did as well. They cast conspiratorial eyes over the doctor, wishing Hotch well as he breached the forbidden areas.

“What can you tell us about Dr. Reid's condition?” Rossi pleaded with the doctor, keeping his attention, keeping him from calling for security like he should have been doing.

Hotch located Reid without much difficulty. Spencer started whimpering his name the second Hotch went past the right room. Aaron backed up, and stepped inside. Reid staggered up from the bed and reached out. The nurse glanced back over his shoulder, and nodded to Hotch as Aaron hurried over. Hotch stood next to the bed and cradled Reid’s skull in his hands, bending down to kiss the top of his head. Spencer pressed himself up tight against Hotch’s chest and koala'd both arms around his middle.

"So worried about you," Hotch whispered.

“You need to lie down for me, Spencer,” the nurse said, picking up Reid’s ankles and putting his legs back up on the surface of the cot. The middle-aged man with short brown hair and blue eyes was stripping the remains of the ripped and ruined fishnet hose off Reid’s long legs, washing away blood streaks and dirt.

Hotch picked up one of the clean wash cloths from the neat stack, and smoothed it over Spencer’s forehead, over his face. He stepped closer to the bed, nearly tripping over the discarded heels. The corset had disappeared between the emergency room and the private room. Hotch hoped Prentiss wasn’t too angry about that.

“Did you get him?” Reid whispered almost inaudibly. 

“We got him,” Hotch promised. Reid closed his eyes and sighed his relief. Hotch stroked away the moisture that welled up behind those kohl-smeared lashes. He dabbed tenderly at the bruise on Reid's bottom lip.

“Is this your father?” the nurse asked, lowering the thin hospital gown over Reid’s midsection before sliding the panties down and away. Hotch locked his eyes on Reid’s face and kept them there, washing away the traces of blush and lipstick and blood, wondering at the similarity in colors.

“Master,” Reid mumbled, then shook his head, brow furrowing. “Boss,” he decided, squirming when the nurse’s hands went under his gown with another clean cloth.

“He’s not quite himself yet,” the nurse explained in a business- like tone to Hotch, peering under the gown, lifting one of Reid’s knees a little.

“Daddy,” Reid mouthed, his eyes clouding over. Hotch could feel him drifting not to sleep, but into a dream state. He jolted with the realization that Reid was in fact very, very high.

“Shhh,” Hotch whispered, washing Reid’s face for him again, brushing away his tears, wishing he didn’t look so frightened and sad. “Shh, I’m here,” Hotch replied, bending down to whisper in Spencer’s ear. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you before. Sorry I was mad at you. Sorry I made you do this,” he added, acutely aware of the way the nurse was watching them as his skillful and tender hands moved up Reid’s torso, bathing his skin clean. Hotch struggled not to watch those hands moving over Reid’s body, struggled not to push the nurse away from the bed completely.

“Sir, he won’t remember what you’re saying. It’s going to take him a few hours to come down again,” the nurse was saying, taking one of Reid’s hands and stroking another clean cloth there. He stroked up and down Reid’s forearms, his elbows, his triceps and biceps. He returned to his hands, peeled off the fake nails one at a time, then tenderly rubbed away the glue residue beneath.

“There. That’s better,” he murmured.

Hotch took the first, clean hand and held it. The nurse gave Hotch another clean cloth, and motioned to Reid’s face. Aaron nodded, letting go of Reid’s hand. He returned to washing his face.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” the nurse promised, patting Hotch’s shoulder. Aaron nodded vaguely, caring only that Reid’s expression had changed from sadness to peaceful dreaming. Hotch bent down and nosed a curl aside in order to kiss Reid on the forehead.

“Reid, you have to be okay. Lewis Kirk is in a holding cell at the station house until we get back there. Captain Fielding said he would wait for us. We wanted to make sure you were all right first. I want you there. I want to give you the chance to interrogate him, if you’re up to that, so you have to be up to that. Are you up to that? Reid?"

Spencer didn't reply. He blinked his eyes open for a moment or two, but drifted away again.

"How old is he?" the nurse asked when he returned. 

"27," Hotch answered. 

“Jesus, he’s even younger than I thought,” the nurse whispered, shaking a small thin bottle while holding a cotton ball against the end. He moved to the bottom of the bed, and lifted the stark white sheet away from one of Reid’s long feet. With a practiced hand, he thumbed over each of Reid’s long toes, cleaning away the dark red polish.

“Let me help,” Hotch offered. The nurse’s face flickered with sympathy and understanding. He gave Hotch a well-soaked cotton ball.

“I’m right. You’re left,” he pointed.

Hotch agreed and obeyed, moving the sheet far enough aside that he could scoop up Reid’s left foot. He slid his hand under Reid’s sole, let Spencer’s toes drape over. He delicately thumbed over each toenail to cleanse away the polish. He liked the way Reid was squirming, almost smiling in his sleep.

“Your friend is ticklish. Sensitive,” the nurse commented. “You should get him a foot massage for his birthday.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hotch promised.

“Did you know that a man’s feet are an often-overlooked erogenous zone?”

“Um, no,” Hotch stammered. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Maybe you should try it next time,” the nurse suggested quietly.

“Next time when? Oh! We’re not… um… he and I….” Hotch said, shaking his head, motioning to Reid. The nurse smiled sympathetically again.

“No?” he asked innocently, as if to say, ‘Maybe you should be.’

“No. He’s my…. I’m his…”

“Master? Interesting choice of words.”

“Boss,” Hotch corrected. The nurse shrugged. “I’m old enough to be his father,” Hotch added. The nurse shrugged again.

“You look like two consenting adults to me. Oops, you missed some polish, over here,” he said, reaching over and scrubbing Reid’s pinkie toe. Reid gave a squirrely giggle, and retracted his foot away, mumbling in his sleep. “My boyfriend loves having his feet played with. I can make him come by sucking his toes. Would you like a chair? You can sit with your friend while he sleeps.”

“Yes, please,” Hotch replied. The nurse left briefly, and returned, pushing a rolling chair. He nestled the chair in beside the bed, motioned for Hotch to have a seat. “Thank you,” Aaron whispered.

“My pleasure,” the nurse replied. “Ring the call button if he needs anything.”

Hotch took off his coat, dimmed the lights in the small room, and got comfortable in the chair. He reached out and stroked Reid’s hair, and realized he still had the shiny barrette clipped into his sandy locks. Hotch stood up and gently snapped the barrette open. The unexpected movement made Spencer wake up.

“Sorry,” Hotch winced, setting the hair adornment aside. Light amber eyes opened to half-mast, and watched Aaron. Hotch pulled up the blankets to Reid’s shoulders, and patted the shape of his hand underneath. “Go back to sleep.”

"No tickles," Reid whined. He gave a soft moan of distress, pushed away the covers, and rolled onto his side. He fumbled a hand towards Hotch, and grabbed onto his arm, drawing it to himself and hugging it close. Hotch rolled his chair right up against the bed, and hoped he could get comfortable with his arm outstretched, because he surely wasn’t going to tug his hand away, not the way Spencer was holding onto him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh God. So bright,” Reid winced, stumbling up the stairs to get onto the plane.

Morgan laughed and put a hand on his back, pushing him slowly up the steps. Reid fiddled with his sunglasses and slouched into the first seat at the rear of the plane, ducking down and drawing the window shade. He stood back up to stow his go-bag, but Morgan was one step ahead of him, having already put it away.

“Thanks,” Reid whispered. Morgan patted him on the head and moved to grab a seat by one of the tables.

Reid was second-guessing taking this seat. Everyone who went by felt the need to pet or pat him in one fashion or another, and the problem was that everyone had to go by him to get on the damned plane.

“Where’s Hotch? We can’t take off without Hotch?” Prentiss was bellowing as she went by. She stopped, cringed, petting Reid’s arm. “Sorry, hon.”

“Hotch said go to the plane and wait for him here. He would be along in a second,” Rossi replied to Prentiss’s remarks. Emily moved forward to sit by Morgan, who was digging around for a pillow from storage and a bottle of water from the fridge.

"He wanted to take one last whack at Kirk. But it's not going to do any good. Guy's got priors. He lawyered up the second Rossi and I walked into the room this morning. Hotch is wasting his breath on that guy," Morgan muttered.

“Hey, Reid? Reid?”

“What?” Spencer asked, lifting his sunglasses and taking them off.

“Zimmerman asked me to give this to you,” Rossi grinned, dropping an envelope in Reid’s lap. Reid frowned at the glossy blue note, and stuffed it unread into his satchel. Garcia gave Reid a pat on the top of the head, and dropped a teddy bear in his lap.

“Here. I wanted to give it to you at the hospital, but they wouldn’t let any of us in your room, except Hotch, who basically stiff- armed his way past the doctor to get back there with you.”

“Thanks,” Reid said. “He’s cute. Oh, I have…” Spencer dug around in his sweater pocket and retrieved the shiny barrette. Garcia slipped it into her purse.

“Thanks, sweetie pie. You can borrow it anytime you need it,” Garcia cooed, petting his cheek. "Hotch said you had a wonderful nurse. Was she pretty?"

"Yes, he was," Reid answered. "Wonderful," he added a moment later. "Wonderful," he repeated. Penelope nodded as she cleared her throat, holding back a chuckle. She moved to take a seat with Emily and Derek.

“Hotch said you didn’t eat breakfast,” Rossi clucked disapprovingly, taking the seat in front of Reid and staring at him intensely.

“Nausea is not uncommon with large doses of Diazepam,” Spencer replied, scratching the nape of his neck and hugging the bear against his chest.

“You want something from the galley?”

“No, thanks,” Reid replied. His stomach protested at the very idea of food.

“I’ll take you to dinner later?”

“I’m not hungry. Just want to go home and sleep.”

“You’re not making this easy, kid,” Rossi frowned. “Work with me.”

“Not making what easy?” Reid asked. Rossi stared at him, and then cast a glance over one shoulder before leaning closer to Reid.

“I'm not supposed to tell you this, but we’re under orders not to leave you alone.”

“What?” Reid whined, eyes closing, mouth pouting.

“Hotch is worried you’ll relapse because of the narcotics Lewis Kirk injected you with.”

“Oh fuck me,” Reid mumbled, covering his eyes with his hands, banging his head against the back of his chair. “God damn you, Aaron Hotchner.”

“Sorry. I know he's about as subtle as a foghorn, but one way or the other, you’re going to be spending a lot of time with us, either all at once or one at a time. This can go easy, or this can go hard. That’s up to you.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…..” Reid babbled.

“Hotch said we need to keep an eye on you until he’s comfortable that you’re out of the woods.” 

“Exactly how long is that going to be?” Reid was muttering now. 

“I understand how you feel. It’s insulting, and it’s patronizing. You’d like to punch him in the mouth, and tell him to mind his own business. But you see, you are his business. All of us. We care about you, and we want to keep you safe. It’s all right to be angry with us. Work through that. Get it out of your system. You’ll feel much better afterwards. Then let me know what you want to do tonight,” Rossi smiled, patting Reid on the knee and getting up to move to a different seat, in order to give Reid time and space to sulk and pout, and to mutter more obscenities to himself.

Once he had relocated, Rossi exchanged a word or two with the others. Reid put his sunglasses back on and melted into his seat.

“Reid?” Morgan called out. 

“What?” Reid called back. 

“I’m making reservations at…” 

“No,” Reid called out. 

“Reid,” Morgan laughed. “Work with me.” 

“No,” Reid sulked.

“What about…” Prentiss started at ask. 

“No!” Reid shouted.

“Reid?”

“WHAT?!” Reid snarled before he realized the new voice had come at him from the open door and the staircase. Spencer pulled off his sunglasses and met the annoyed but amused gaze of Aaron Hotchner. “What?” he toned down his anger, drawing back in his seat. Hotch frowned at him.

The crew rolled the stairs away and sealed up the plane. Hotch stowed his carry on, and he looked towards Rossi, who shrugged and shook his head. Hotch sat down opposite from Reid, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared hard at the young man.

“We need to talk,” Hotch said. Everyone else was suddenly very interested in the morning paper, a book, their iPad, their phone -- anything but the conversation that was about to take place.

The longer Hotch stared at Reid, the further down in his seat Spencer shrank. It was hard to maintain any sort of sustained anger streak at the man who had been by your bed when you woke up this morning in the hospital. He had been holding your hand, and staring at you with large, concerned eyes. It was obvious he had slept by your bed in a chair worse than a medieval torture device. It was even harder to be mad at him when that man had knelt with you beside the toilet, and held your hair out of your face as you vomited over and over for an hour. When you were lying balled up on the floor beside the toilet, enjoying the chilled tiles, he had scampered away and retrieved ice-cold 7-Up from the vending machines for you, and those cheddar cheese-flavored fish-shaped crackers that you like so much too.

It was next to impossible to be angry with someone who had guided you back to bed, and sat rubbing your back while you cried soundlessly into your pillow, shaking with humility and self- chastisement when you understood the dire consequences of last night’s events. You had fallen. You had used, however unwillingly. You were back to being nothing but a junkie, and you had two choices before you, to use or not to use. The urges were gonna start soon. The aching need. The sweats and shakes when you abstained, and you would abstain, yes, you would. Because you valued your life and your job, and even more than that, you valued his opinion of you. But you knew what was coming. All the emotions. The anger. The self-pity. The self- hatred. The depression. The thoughts of suicide and sometimes homicide too.

Hotch continued to stare in black silence. Reid timidly raised his eyes.

“I was thinking we could watch a movie tonight,” Hotch offered. “Do you have any plans?”

Reid tucked his bottom lip inside his mouth, and bit back the urge to bite Hotch’s head right off. He should scream and fight and kick and howl. In about thirty-six hours, he would probably be doing exactly that, and he knew somehow that Hotch was going to be there too, rubbing his back and offering to bring him 7-Up and goldfish crackers again, anything to make him feel better. Hotch was going to let Reid scream and cry and curse and bite, and he was never going to judge. He was going to handcuff Reid to the heaviest piece of furniture in his apartment, but he was never going to judge.

You can't be mad at a guy like that. It's just not possible.

“What do you want to watch?” Reid caved, feeling like a spineless coward. He folded his knees to his chest and hugged them.

“What’s your opinion of Christopher Lee?” Hotch asked, picking up the teddy bear and putting it in the other seat, buckling the lapbelt around it, tickling its chin, petting its feet. Reid knew without a doubt that if they had been alone, Hotch would be doing those things to him.

Reid’s eyes shifted forward and up again. He was tentatively hopeful.

“Early filmography or later works?” 

“I’m thinking early works.”

“But not too early,” Reid winced.

“The Horror of Dracula?” Hotch suggested. Reid brightened.

“The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll?” Reid began to unfold his body again, coming back out of his shell.

“Crypt of the Vampire?”

“Castle of the Living Dead?”

“Dracula, Prince of Darkness?” they whispered in unison. Reid had a positively giddy smile on now. He made an indiscernible sound – a squeak of pleasure with a hint of longing? He was quivering with excitement, and had to clap both hands over his mouth at once to keep from making any more happy noises. Hotch couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay. It’s settled then. You get some rest until we land,” Hotch ordered as he patted Spencer’s knee, and stood up to leave. Reid wrapped an arm around Hotch’s knee, and leaned against his middle, putting his cheek against Hotch’s belt buckle.

“Thank you,” Reid whispered. Aaron stroked Spencer's hair, wishing he did not feel eight eyes needling him in the back, watching his every move, hanging on their every word. What he wouldn’t give to be having this conversation alone with Reid, somewhere private, somewhere he could say what he wanted to say.

Hotch sat back down. He heard someone stand up, or lean up in their seat, in order to keep watching the proceedings. Garcia? She was the shortest of those assembled.

“Reid, you don’t have to thank me. I should have shot Lewis Kirk before he stabbed you with that syringe. I should have blown his head off.”

Reid shook his head no, frowning, looking scared.

“But I was worried I would hit you,” Hotch murmured, petting Reid’s hand, thumbing over the bruised wrist that Spencer was attempting to hide beneath his sweater cuff. “I should apologize to you, for all the inappropriate things I said and did last night.”

Reid shook his head no again, his face lined with shame. “You saved my life.”

“I put you in danger, and asked you to submit to the most degrading human situation imaginable. You did what I asked you to do, and you almost got killed because of me. I said horrible things to you, thought even worse things about you, and for that I’m sincerely sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

Hotch gazed up at Reid, and was so afraid for a moment that Spencer might burst into tears, which was not going to be pretty, not only because it would be absolutely humiliating for Reid, but because it would quite probably make Hotch start crying too. Hotch crying in front of his team was akin to an Extinction Level Event as far as Aaron was concerned, something he would avoid if at all possible. Spencer read the desperate fear Aaron’s face, and a shield came down on the doctor’s features. Disdain washed over him, clearly feigned this close but surely convincing at a distance.

“I don’t know. You were being quite the dickhead last night,” Reid muttered.

Hotch heard Morgan cough, Garcia gasp, and Prentiss laugh, and he had to fight the smile that was tugging at his mouth. Reid was fighting a smile too, but their amusement was shielded from the others by the chair backs between the groups.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Aaron Hotchner, because that is the first and last and only time you are going to see me in a skirt, corset, and heels,” Reid continued. 

“No, it isn’t, Boo,” Garcia called out.

“We’ve got all kinds of CCTV footage of you strutting your stuff,” Morgan interjected.

“I’m already working on editing the tastier bits together,” Garcia mused.

“We’ve got audio too. Tons of audio,” Rossi sighed happily.

Hotch raised a brow at Reid’s discomfort, and let his most wicked smile unfurl. Hotch’s dark eyes were absolutely dancing with mischief. He had won this round, that’s for sure.

“Get some rest, Boo-boo. It's gonna be a long night," Aaron purred deliciously as he stood up again.


End file.
